Written in the Stars
by Angeloholic
Summary: Children often never understand the importance of the questions they ask and the answers they receive. A Fred/Hermione fanfic in honour of my beta.


A/N: It's been a while and I still seem to be obsessing over the characters that didn't come out so well in DH... But in this case, my beta decided that I needed a challenge and so here it is. All I was given was 'write me a Fred/Hermione fic' and this is what I managed to belt out.

Please remember to review!

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**Written in the Stars by Angeloholic**

Bones creaked as they often did when she sat down these days; it made her sound like an old piece of furniture that had been under too much strain for too many years, which she supposed she had been.

"Grandma, tell me a story." The little boy said in his sleepy voice, his head resting gently against her chest as he curled up in her lap.

She stroked his soft blond hair, "And what do you want to know?" She asked as his breathing slowed, deepening as sleep slowly claimed him.

The boy snuffled slightly, "Tell me about Grandpa."

"Oh…Boys!" Hermione yelled for the benefit of the library, though no one really found the exclamation out of place. If the bushy haired Gryffindor wasn't studying, generally she could be found scolding her best friends.

"Come on, 'Mione!" Ron replied with equal exasperation. "Why don't you come to the Burrow for Christmas? Harry will be there," The red head pointed at the aforementioned raven haired boy, just in case she had forgotten who he was, "If you don't come you'll be here on your own, and that's just sad." He continued, Harry sighed mentally at his friend's complete incompetence when he spoke to their female friend.

Hermione swept all her books into her bag in one smooth motion that the boys had always envied, shouldering the bag she huffed indignantly. "I don't need to be some charity case, Ronald!" She snapped and glared at them both.

As she fled, Harry elbowed his fellow Gryffindor hard and Ron yelped, "What was that for?"

Harry sighed, raking a hand through his unruly mess of hair, "For tarring me wish the same brush," As was always prone to happened, when Hermione was annoyed with Ron.

Ron just looked at him in confusion, making a show of rubbing his abused ribs. "What?"

Harry stood ready to follow their affronted friend, "Muggle expression."

The red head just nodded, after six years he knew not to question that response.

Suffice it to say, Hermione did join her best friends at the Burrow for the holidays but only after having lectured them for half an hour in front of the entire common room, a lecture that basically equated to 'well, I have nothing _better_ to do'. Though secretly, Harry suspected that Ginny had asked her to come too, and had been more successful than Ron and himself.

Mr Weasley had picked the four of them up and upon arrival all of them, in turn, had been engulfed into warm motherly hugs by Molly Weasley, Ron just sighed in embarrassment while Ginny grinned in exasperated fondness. Harry and Hermione just grinned at each other, Mrs Weasley was like their second mum in the wizarding world, it was nice to know there was someone like her around, Ron and Ginny just took it for granted. Harry supposed that that was what children did though.

"Come on, Dears, quickly now." Molly ushered them all, giving Mr Weasley a quick peck on the cheek as he passed. "You'll catch your deaths out in that cold." She closed the back door firmly behind them and looked Harry over appraisingly, "Harry love, do they feed you at school."

As Harry grinned awkwardly and Ron argued with his mother that 'yes, they did feed him, he made sure of it', Hermione grinned sitting down at the kitchen table, it was times like this that it was like coming home.

That evening the house was quiet, the wizarding wireless played away to itself in the corner as Mrs Weasley knitted, Mr Weasley sat quizzing Hermione and Harry about muggles, as he usually did when he had the chance, and Ron and Ginny faced off over a chess board erupting into random bouts of cackling laughter when they made a particularly effective move.

That was until the clock chimed. Then all hell broke lose.

Mrs Weasley threw her knitting away (barely missing Mr Weasley), her eyes darting to the clock in alarm. Hermione looked over at the clock too, curious as to what could have Mrs Weasley in such a state. Then she saw it.

The hand on the clock adorned with the faces of the notorious Fred and George Weasley were moving, as if in slow motion, between travelling and home, while everyone else's hand moved swiftly but without hesitation to mortal peril.

Mrs Weasley wrung her hands, "The Boys are coming." She whispered and even though anyone tell from the way she said it that she was glad of the fact, the very thought still made her as apprehensive as the first time she'd heard an explosion come from their room. _Ahh, to have them as virtuously harmless toddlers again_, Mrs Weasley thought just as the living room door burst open.

Both Weasley Twins stood, jaw splitting grins etched onto their faces and arms outstretched. "Mother!" They cheered and engulfed the plump woman. "How are you?" Fred asked.

"Miss us?" George asked in turn.

"Course she did!" Fred said, cuffing his twin none too gently, "We're her favourites!"

George nodded grinning with good cheer, "We know you meant to invite us Mum, s'why were late."

Fred nodded at that, releasing his mother and making a beeline for his father, "Yeah, sack whichever bloody owl you used. Never even found us!"

Arthur smiled, standing to hug first one son and then the other, "That would be my fault, I was running late having to pick up everyone at King's Cross and I just lost track of time."

Fred sighed with sympathy, "Ahh, to be old and decrepit as to forget one's children." Though it was obviously said in a not-to-be-taken-seriously way.

George raised an eyebrow, "You know, we have a product that could-"

"Brother," Fred interrupted jovially, slapping him on the back, "First rule of new products?"

Both twins turned, an eerie light illuminating their eyes as they zoned in on their little brother, "Only on Ron."

Harry laughed as Ron's pale face before he asked, "How's business?"

Hermione toddled off to bed relatively early, but was soon awake again due to hushed whispers of '_Well if you _want_ it to blow up!_' and '_If you're so bloody clever, why don't you do it!_'

Hermione got out of bed, grabbing her dressing gown as she went, careful not to wake Ginny as she slipped out and up the corridor. She reached the Twins room, (because really, which other room could noises like that come from?) and pressed her ear in.

"What if we added daisy roots?" One of the twins asked though the sound was too muffled to tell which one.

There was a scoff followed by a distinct sound of bubbling as the other replied, "Were you in the same potions class that I was?" He asked and the bubbling sound stopped ominously, "Crap, I think it's gonna blow!"

Without thinking, the bushy haired girl rushed in, ready to save the entire house from impending disaster only to be confronted by two very smug looking Weasleys, their arms crossed and feet shoulder length apart. "We were wondering how long it would take." The one she could recognise now to be George said.

Fred, to the right, nodded, "Yeah, we've been talking to ourselves for hours."

Hermione nearly went to correct him, the fact that they were both there meant they weren't talking to themselves, but then she considered how alike they were at time and realised that sometimes, it probably was like talking to oneself, when one had an identical twin. "What are you talking about?" She asked quietly so she didn't disturb anyone who might be able to hear them.

"Dearest Hermione," Fred swooned guiding the tired brunette further into the room and seating her.

George stood on her other side, "We need a favour."

"No." She replied ready to leave as soon as the words left his mouth.

Fred pouted, "You don't even know what we're going to ask."

"You want help with a potion." She replied dully.

George shrugged, "Or maybe you do."

"Oh come on Hermione!" Fred pleaded, "It's important."

Hermione sighed in disgust, "Practical jokes aren't important." She argued, extracting herself from between them. "Most of the time they're not even funny."

"Brother," Fred said, holding onto Hermione's arm. "I think I hear Ginny calling you."

George smiled, "Could just be Ronnikins' voice has had a relapse. Be right back." The teenager slipped out of the room quickly.

Fred turned Hermione around, "Please," He begged with the oddest expression on his face. "This isn't a joke." He was serious. The laughter lines were still there, to be sure, but his eyes now glowed like precious stones in the dim light and his hand trembled ever so slightly where it held her, as though fighting to let her go and keep her there at the same time. "You're our last hope."

Hermione bit her lip, knowing that in some form or another, she was going to regret this. "What do you want?"

Even Ron noticed that more often that not, leading up to Christmas, Hermione was found in cahoots with the Twins, her polar opposites. They were found in various corners and nooks planning something.

At first, Ron wasn't worried, he'd told her often enough that she had to get more friends than just him and Harry, and his brothers were pretty decent, to other people.

Then he'd slowly slipped into jealousy as she began blowing him and Harry off completely in favour of his brothers, once he'd realised however, he quickly squashed it knowing that Hermione had every right to talk to his brothers.

This, rather unfortunately, led him to worrying. He knew his brothers like no other, as the butt of nearly all their jokes at home and holding a special place beside them for his escapades with Harry and Hermione, it gave him an insight. They had worked well at school, but had only gained a handful of OWLs between them, they were respectful to those they held in high regard, but everyone else was fair game. Ron was worried just what his brothers would do to his best friend, and he wondered which pieces would have to be picked up after this explosion.

"So if we contain it in a copper alloy, with a quick _subericio_. Then it will work, won't it Hermione?"

Hermione smiled at Fred, that proud smile she often reserved for his little brother, "Yes," She took on her usual serious look again. "Can we test it, do you think?"

George shrugged as he stirred the potions carefully, so as not to go too fast, "Suppose we could," He stopped stirring and reduced the heat, "If we left out the nightshade it would only be temporary."

"Question is," Fred said as he reclined back onto his bed, "Who do we test it on?"

Hermione rolled her eyes heavenward, "On us, of course."

George sighed as he came around; he slung his arm around her shoulders, ignoring the glare from Fred that the girl didn't seem to notice. "Poor innocent, little bookworm." He cuffed her chin, "If you're still this naive then we didn't teach Ron well enough."

The bushy haired Gryffindor looked highly affronted at the implication. "What my brother means," Fred scowled at George who looked very unconcerned but did remove his arm. "Is that the test subject has to be unsuspecting, otherwise the results can be tainted."

George nodded as he lounged now, near his own bed. "The power of suggestion can be very powerful," Hermione scoffed, and looked decidedly alarmed at the smirk that stretched across the twin's face, "Oh, I think we've found a non-believer, George."

Hermione looked confused for a moment, "What are you on about?" She asked, "You're George."

Fred smiled behind his hand, hiding it as a yawn, "Are you call yourself our friend," He said with mock disappointment, "You can't even tell us apart."

"Shut up, Fred." Hermione scolded him.

"Hey, I'm Fred!" George argued indignantly.

Hermione's eyebrow rose inquiringly, "Really?" In a flash she had her wand pointed at George, "Stupefy!" The twin reacted just as quickly and he threw up a shield without thought, Hermione looked on smugly, "That's not Fred's wand."

That caught Fred's attention, "Why would you say that?" His brother also looked on in confusion, looking at the wand in his hand. Both he and Fred had the same wand, as far as he knew. Dragon heartstring, oak, ten inches.

Hermione sighed, "Because Fred," She replied, "Your wand, like always, is tucked beneath your mattress when you're experimenting." She sheathed her wand back up her sleeve, ever practical. "But before that, I knew because-" she faltered, not really knowing how to explain it. "Because I just did. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get ready for dinner." She announced before she swept out of the room, leaving the stunned twins behind her.

George was the first to regain his voice, "Did she just-"

"I think she did, George." Fred sighed in amusement, "One of us has to marry that girl." Fred smiled rakishly at his brother, "And it won't be you."

George laughed, "Good luck with _that_! Don't you know the story? Hermione and little Ronnikins are destined to be!" He swooned onto his brother and Fred shoved him onto the floor laughing, "And Ginny's gonna set up house with Harry, while we while away in our shop entertaining children for generations to come."

Fred smiled, looking down at his brother over the edge of his bed, "I never put much faith in fairy tales."

George chuckled, nodding his head, watching as his brother stared at the stop where Hermione had just stood. "No, you never did."

Christmas came and went without incident other Weasley offspring dropping in whenever they caught a spare moment, but New Year was a different story.

"Molly, will you come here for a moment!" Mr Weasley called from the garden. Molly wiped her hands on her apron to remove the extra flour from her baking. She scuttled outside immediately to her husband's aide. The man stood, his wand outstretched, a look of immense confusion on his face and he swished it about and nothing happened. "I appear to have lost my magic." He informed her ever so calmly, "You wouldn't mind getting the boys for me, would you dear?"

Mrs Weasley sighed, pulling out her own wand, "Not at all. Fred, George! Come outside immediately!" She ended the sonorus as the children all came shuffling out of the house.

When the two in question finally arrived, she inhaled, ready to give them the scatting lecture of their life when Mr Weasley interrupted her quietly, "Quite ingenious boys, what is it?" He asked, still trying to tame the bush with magic that would not come.

George and Fred puffed up in pride; their Dad had always been more understanding than their Mum about their brilliance. "It's a squibber!" George announced with a smile, "But it's just temporary."

Mrs Weasley's blood pressure was going through the roof if her flushed face was anything to go by, "How temporary?"

Fred shrugged, "Should be gone within the hours, I mean, really Dad." Fred addressed his father this time, "We fed it to you at breakfast and you haven't noticed at all so far."

Arthur smiled, tucking his wand away as it was effectively useless at the moment, "Spiffing idea lads," He congratulated them as he made his way back into the house with the rest of them, "Well done."

"You don't know the best bit," Called Hermione's quiet voice, she nervously stood off to the side. "It's untraceable and undetectable." She added, "And it can be made permanent."

Hermione smiled as everyone celebrated finally. It had taken a year to perfect the potion, after the added help of Severus Snape, though Hermione often wonders about the Headmaster's sanity when he had locked Snape, the Weasley twins and herself alone together in the dungeons.

The Final Battle had happened where everyone had expected it to, on the very lawns where the whole Tom Riddle saga had begun his magical education.

People had been lost, and they were mourned by both sides, for no one person felt greater grief and they shouldn't have to bare it alone. The most noticeable lost from their side was that of Remus Lupin, who had died saving Snape from being mauled by Greyback, taking the psychotic werewolf down with him.

The funerals had been held and now it was time to celebrate the lives of people who had been lost, and that of the Muggle, Tom Marvolo Riddle who now resided in the psychiatric unit of St Mungo's under permanent guide of a Dementor he could no longer see.

Hermione watched at young witches and wizards danced at yet another Ministry function in honour of the Boy Who Lived. She watched as Ginny whisked Harry onto the dance floor, ignoring his incoherent attempts not to show her up. Ron spun Lavender Brown once again, smiling at her as though she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Snape and Dumbledore stood drinking hard liquor in a corner and Hermione suspected they wouldn't be standing for very long, but Professor McGonagall seemed to be on top of it as she levitated the pair into chairs without them even noticing.

Tonks sat sombrely in the corner, toasting the life of her lost lover, as she watched the children dance, smiling at them all sadly.

As her eyes landed on Fred, who was entertaining at the bar, a voice behind her whispered, "Poor innocent little bookworm." Hermione spun around in fright, clutching her chest as she gazed up into the smiling face of George Weasley.

"George!" She hissed, hitting him in the arm with her purse. "Don't do that."

George just smiled his trademark boyish smile, the parallel one to Fred's rakish smirk that Hermione had come accustomed to in the last year. "Couldn't resist," It wasn't an apology, but then again, it wasn't meant to be. "Go ask him to dance." He instructed her gazing over her head, his meaning clear.

Hermione blushed slightly as she scoffed, "Why?" She turned back, looking at Fred, entertaining as he always did at these functions. The beautiful girls swarming to him as he told tales of his war time escapades.

George smiled at the back of her head fondly; gently he led her out onto the dance floor, whisking her into his arms, "Look at me." He told her as they danced, and she had to admit that that he was a good dance.

The two danced gracefully around the ball room for what seemed like hours, George smiling and telling jokes as they went and Hermione laughing and bantering along with him, then a slow song came on and he pulled her close, whispering, "Now, look at him."

She looked at him in confusion, but as he spun her around, she glimpsed Fred, no longer entertaining. Now he was just watching his brother dance with Hermione with a covetous expression. The bushy haired girl turned back, unsettled, and George smiled in understanding, "I don't think I'll ever forgive you for making him grow up," His eyes glazed over as he looked over her head, at his sister and her dance partner. "But I understand it better now."

Her eyes were drawn with his to Harry, for the first time she noticed the glistening band on his finger, "You're getting married?" She asked in shock, "You proposed?"

George laughed, spinning her again, "Like hell," He replied, "I slipped the ring on while he was asleep." George smiled merrily, "I'm taking it as a good sign that he hasn't taken it off yet."

Hermione stopped dancing and hugged George to her tightly, "Congratulations," She whispered and she swore she wasn't crying, "You'll be good for him."

George nodded into her shoulder, "I hope so." Harry had been through a lot in the last year, having faced many battles, many of which had been intensely personal and for a time, George had been the only one who was able to make Harry smile, Hermione would always be grateful for that. "I want him to laugh."

Hermione chuckled, "And now he can make an honest man out of you."

George pulled away highly affronted, "Never!"

A soft cough off to the side caught their attention as Fred slipped between them, effectively pushing George away with a glare, "May I cut in?"

George smacked his brother on the back heartily, "Please do, I must go rescue Harry from our sister." His smile beamed as he shouted over the crowd, "Oh Lover!" Harry turned beet red even as he smiled and George flounced over too him in a display of effeminate gayness that wasn't natural, but gained him the required strange looks and outraged gasps he'd been aiming for.

Fred started dancing as his brother disappeared, he wasn't as smooth as George had been, but Hermione liked the way that he moved to suit her, letting her lead.

They were silent for a moment, before Fred asked, "Having a good time?"

Hermione nodded, "Yeah, what happened to your fan club?" She asked.

Fred shrugged, not even trying to play coy, "Dunno."

They were silent for a moment, "So, what are you going to do now?"

Fred shrugged, "Go back and open the shop I suppose."

Hermione sighed, "That's not what I meant." She leant up quickly pecking him on the cheek though the gesture wasn't one of friendship, "I meant; what are _you_ going to do _now_?"

Fred swallowed thickly, "I'm-I'm going to ask you out to dinner?" He asked a little hesitantly and Hermione smiled at him affectionately. "I'm going to ask you to give me a chance to be sensible, so I can impress you with my sophisticated personality, and extraordinary manners?"

"No," Hermione shook her head and Fred's face dropped, his steps faltered for a moment before he plastered a smile back onto his face.

"Oh well, can't blame a guy for trying." He muttered though the words came out hoarsely as he tried to keep himself together. He'd been working up to this for nearly a year, and one didn't get a more definite answer than 'no'.

He pulled away, ready to flee and lick his wounds when Hermione pulled him back to her, "No, you're going to make me dinner, not take me out. If I wanted sensible I'd be angling for Percy, and you will eat with your usual pig-like manners, because no girl is worth changing for." She smiled softly up at him, stroking his cheek with feather light fingers, "And I like you. Just the way you are."

Fred beamed at her, glowing almost before her eyes as he whipped her up into his arms and started to spin with her and even over her own yelps of startled laughter she could here his own litany.

_Just the way I am_.

Hermione smiled down at her sleeping grandson, the boy lost to the world of sleep now until the next morning when he would gallop into her bedroom making a racket.

Slowly, she stood the small boy still in her arms and tucked him into bed. Stroking back his flaxen curls, two arms wrapped around her waist. She smiled as a five o'clock shadow nuzzled into her neck, a sensation that she was well used to by now, "I wondered what was taking you so long," Her husband muttered.

"I was telling him a story." She replied turning in his arms.

Fred grinned, his lined face showing the years of laughter as he replied, "The one where I slay a dragon?"

Hermione swotted him gently, "You didn't slay a dragon, get over it." She pulled away from him and walked out, Fred followed closely, shutting the door softly.

"Well, what was it then?" He asked as Hermione slipped into bed, he crawled in behind her, albeit much slower than he once had.

Hermione shrugged, "Could have been a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, but it definitely _wasn't a dragon_." She sighed as his arms wrapped once again around her waist.

Fred gasped behind her, "Did you just blaspheme, my little bookworm?"

Hermione chuckled quietly, her eyes drifting closed as she replied, "Quiet you, Rose with be round tomorrow to collect Rabastan in the morning, I don't want to look like I haven't slept for no good reason."

Fred grinned into her shoulder, "I could-"

"Finish that sentence, perverted old man, and you'll never give me a good reason ever again." She mumbled as she felt to sleep, "Love you, Fred." She sighed as she fell to sleep.

Fred smiled, tucking the blanket more tightly around the shoulders of his wife of fifty years; he turned off the lights with a word and wrapped himself around her comfortably. "Love you, bookworm."

END

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A/N: Remember review! 


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